Love Match
by laurelflame1
Summary: When the Rebels invent a love match game to boost morale, Han Solo seizes the opportunity to get closer to Princess Leia Organa.
1. Chapter 1

"Absolutely not," Han Solo answered before rolling his eyes and snickering in disgust. "You must be confusing me with a 15-year-old girl."

"Come on," Wes Janson urged. "It's all in good fun."

"Fun?" Han echoed, setting down his tool carefully and straightening to his full lanky height. He looked incredulously at his uninvited guest.

"Yeah, fun," he insisted with more conviction than he felt. Luke had predicted the smuggler would balk at the idea, but he hadn't expected such a negative reaction.

"There ain't nothing fun about wasting time on some bullshit love match game."

"Come on. Bren worked hard on this project. He spent a week compiling the formula."

"You don't say?"

"Yeah, he poured a lot of hard work into it."

"Well, since you put it that way. I mean, if this Bren fellow worked so hard on it, I'll do it."

"Really?"

"No," Han replied, laughing and shaking his head in amusement.

"Come on," Wes urged. "Don't you think we could use a mindless distraction right about now? It's good for morale."

"My morale is just fine."

"I was talking about everyone else."

"Since when do I care about anyone else's morale?"

"You're impossible," Wes muttered, not quite under his breath.

Considering the conversation finished, Han leaned down and retrieved the tool he had deposited on the floor of his ship moments earlier.

"You'll be the only one who doesn't submit a survey," Wes blurted out in a last-ditch effort to convince the stubborn smuggler.

"I'll live," Han assured him, turning away to resume his work. Suddenly, he spun back around to face Janson again.

" _Everyone_ is taking part in your little experiment?" he asked innocently.

Wes bit back a smile. No doubt, Han was thinking of a certain petite princess with doelike eyes, a killer body, and a razor-sharp wit. Many rebels routinely teased Han about his growing preoccupation with Leia Organa. The Corellian had initially dismissed their jibes as ridiculous fiction, but his denials had diminished in recent months. Now, it was obvious that Solo had it bad for her.

What wasn't quite so evident was how the princess felt about Han. Wedge Antilles insisted that Leia secretly liked sparring with Solo, but Wes was uncertain. Was she that good of an actress? Regardless, he assumed his best Sabbac face.

" _Everyone_ ," he assured him.

Solo rubbed the back of his neck while mulling over Wes's answer. Finally, he let out a tired laugh.

"How the hell did you convince her royal stick-in-the-mud to take part in your stupid game?"

"Luke convinced her."

"'Course he did," Solo muttered more to himself more than to the man standing across from him.

"Well, if she's in, count me in," Han announced, sporting a wide, goofy grin. "Only 'cause I don't want to waste a good opportunity to mess with her."

"Super! I'll let everyone know you'll do it."

Solo turned away and resumed his crouching position. Seconds later, he was absorbed in his work project.

As Wes headed to the mess hall, he sported a satisfied smile. He could not wait to tell the guys that he'd snagged Solo for their game. There was only one problem. How would he ever convince the princess to take part?


	2. Chapter 2

The rebels often joked that Luke became Leia's favorite when he destroyed the Death Star in the Battle of Yavin. But he'd had help during that thrilling and historic moment. Han had swooped in, seemingly out of nowhere, to provide him with the perfect opening to end the battle with one perfect shot. Luke was readying an attempt to pull off another unpredictable maneuver, but this time he wouldn't have the advantage of his friend's help.

Luke found Leia sitting by herself at a small table. Two stacks of papers were arranged neatly in front of her. She stirred a cup of unsavory-looking porridge concoction while she studied the top sheet on one of the paper stacks. He had gotten to know the princess surprisingly well despite her often-standoffish nature and prided himself on his ability to read her various states of body language. Today, her rigid posture, along with her slightly clenched fists resting on the table screamed, "Leave me alone if you know what's good for you," to any fool who dared to approach her.

Despite her immaculate appearance, Leia looked exhausted. Or maybe he was reading into her mental state because Wes had told him that she had just completed a double shift.

"Quick," Wes had whispered urgently. "I saw the princess head toward the mess hall."

Intimidated, Luke briefly considered turning around and marching out the exit without so much as uttering a word to Leia. His dogged determination made him push forward instead, as it had many times in the past, and as it would continue to do so in the future.

Han would have relished the opportunity to interrupt Leia during her semi-private time. He'd take great joy in annoying her until she fired a particularly harsh zinger in his direction. Maybe the smuggler was just desperate to capture the princess's attention in any manner he could, even when it resulted in a tongue lashing or harsh insult aimed at him.

"Quit stalling," Luke admonished himself. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to march over to Leia's table before the little confidence he had left him.

"Good morning, Leia," he said, smiling brightly, clutching the back of the chair directly across from her.

"What's so good about it?" she murmured, not looking up from her reading materials.

"We're still alive," he quipped.

His retort seemed to liberate the princess from the invisible fort surrounding her. When she lifted her head to meet his eyes, Luke was relieved to see amusement illuminating her delicate features.

"For now," she deadpanned. Luke chuckled and watched her skim the porridge with her spoon, raise it halfway to her lips and then return the spoon to the bowl, never sampling the cereal.

"What do you think you'd be doing right now if we weren't at war?" Luke asked easily. "What would Leia Organa be doing on an ordinary Friday morning?"

"I never really experienced ordinary mornings," she answered softly, more to herself than to her friend.

"Would you be getting ready for a date?"

She frowned slightly and shook her head.

"I never had much time for dating, but if I did, I wouldn't spend hours getting ready for a man."

"What kind of men would you date?" he asked, hoping the question sounded like it rolled off his tongue easily.

"Nice men."

"What would these nice men look like?" he pressed on. "Do you like the blond, blue-eyed type or tall, dark, and handsome?"

"I already told Wes that I'm not playing his juvenile dating game," the princess answered, her dark eyes narrowing at him in defiance. "So, you can stop gathering information from me to use without my permission."

Luke sighed and collapsed back in his chair, releasing all the tension in his body.

"Come on, Leia," he begged. "It's just harmless fun."

"For most of you, it probably is. For me, it's different. In addition to being disinterested in some bogus love matching formula, I spend much of my time trying to be taken seriously by countless people who view me as nothing more than a symbol or figurehead. I cannot imagine the comments I would elicit if I took part in this game. So, thank you for thinking of me, but I am declining the invitation for the second and final time."

Luke knew when to walk away from a hopeless battle. He nodded in understanding and stood up in defeat.

"I hope you get some rest," he told her in a gentle tone.

Without looking up, she responded, "I'll rest when my work is finished."

Luke walked out of the mess hall feeling trounced by the opposition. He loved Leia but she could be so darn frustrating sometimes. He'd never met anyone who possessed the same degree of stubbornness. Actually, there was one other person he knew who could match her obstinate nature.

Comforted by his sudden idea, Luke broke into a broad grin and headed toward the hangar in pursuit of the one man who might be the key to changing Leia's mind.


End file.
